Perfectly Imperfect ➳ Ziam AU

Epilogue

So, it's the end. We've come to the end of the road, and I'm so glad to have you amazing bunches of people joining me on it. I had fun, but it's over now, and a new story is brewing. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. The song on the side is Warrior by Demi Lovato, and it reflects on all Zayn's been through, and still he comes out as a warrior.

[Special thanks to @_RaeRae. You’re beautiful and kind and I love you so much. Thank you for all your support, because I know you’ve been through some rough times, and perhaps this story has helped you out, but I’ve been through some rough times, and your comments and feedback have helped me out. As a writer, you never really got to know people that much, just their username and their support, but with you, I feel as if I know a little part of you, and I don’t even know your first name, so thank you. And to @STYLLE. Of course, she’s my favourite. This girl is my rock, seriously, and I will love her forever more. Every single chapter there is always her little ray of sunshine comments, and they always make me lighten up and feel better. Thank you for everything, your support is the sunshine in the dark.]

This is dedicated to all of you. Thanks, for everything, you've pushed me all the way until the very end, and I couldn't have done it without every single bit of support.

[Zayn]

 

“This is a story that I have never told. I ‘gotta get this off my chest to let it go. I need to take back the light inside you stole. You're a criminal and you steal like you're a pro.”

 

The brittle tires of the car were bumpy on the uneven pathway leading to the graveyard. Liam’s face held a serious look, his lips set in a straight line as he focused on not veering off of the road and crashing his expensive car into the rugged trees surrounding. I watched dreamily, my thoughts on other things as I numbly curled the tips of my hair around my fingertips slowly and lazily.

Liam’s fingers were white with the pressure that he held on the steering wheel. I reached out to touch him, my fingers cold and feather-light, but as skin touched skin, he didn’t seem to notice, his shoulders still high with tension.

“Liam?” I whispered, my eyes just as soft as my voice. He didn’t reply, but his eyes flickered in acknowledgement. “Liam,” I called, a little firmer, now.

“I—I’m sorry,” He paused; his eyes flickering over to meet mine momentarily. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. Are you—are you sure you want to do this?”

I nodded firmly, “Of course I do.” I told him, not a quiver to my voice. I took another careful glance at him, “God, Liam! You’re more nervous than me, and it’s not even your dead mother we’re going to see!” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t seem to effect Liam, who just stared at me, almost guilty-like. “I’m—“ He tried to say, but I shook my head, reaching forward and clutching his bicep, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t say it,” I whispered, “It’s not your fault.”

“All the pain and the truth, I wear like a battle wound. So ashamed, so confused, I was broken and bruised.”

 

The car drew silent as Liam pulled up, the car slanted on a mound of grass that he’s bumped up on. A few feet ahead of us was the same rickety old fence that I’d only seen once before, one gate hung off of its hinges, hanging open. The metal was no longer a sleek, freshly painted black, now a rusty, worn-out copper colour, the bolts all days away from falling out and the fence accident-prone to collapsing any minuet.